Reading, Writing and Riddling

Dear Sir or Madam

Will you read my book?

It took me years to write

Will  you take a look?

Paperback Writer   Lennon McCartney 

About a moon and a half ago, right here on this site,  I committed myself to penning that story that I've had somewhere inside as a loose affiliation of ideas for a couple of years or more. " How hard could it be? " I  thought.  I like, as Carolyn so deftly puts it, " rubbing words together " and I would be more effective as an editor if I too spent time at the starting end of the pen. I  understand the basic formula - set up a palpable problem then create attractive and engaging folks to solve it in attractive and engaging ways. It's like following a flight of steps. How could I get waylaid ?




 I told myself more than once back then, that one night soon I'd put bum to chair, fingers to keyboard and words together.  It would be un morceau de gateau.  I remember ,when I first got hooked on sci-fi, reading that Asimov(or maybe it was Bradbury) would routinely smack out thirty plus pages a day (editing, what the #*$& is that ?) . 

This thing, that thing and the other thing intervened and before I knew it  weeks had passed.

 So I sat down finally. Along with the challenge of writing a readable story there now was the creeping feeling that tempus was fugitting. Deadlines  have always been on my bane A-list. Carolyn, where do you find the time ??

When I did get back to my list/heap of ideas, fragments of this and that, and notes to self about what should be included, etc., I found that they actually further muddified things. I  needed some sort of outline to follow. I'd violated that very rule that I'd spent a number of years attempting to insert into the minds of my writing students - don't leave the house without a map!  I am now in the process of fleshing out that map. In doing so I've been made to focus on just where the potential weak links are. The foolproof flight of stairs has become a dark tunnel of sorts.  There are lots of  shadowy nooks and dead-end diversions to negotiate before I get to the light at the end.




In a small, serendipitous way succour came to me a few days ago. I got a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's posthumous " Armageddon in Retrospect " as a gift from my sister awhile back and I finally found myself in a position to crack it open. I've only been through the intro written by his son Mark so far but a couple of paragraphs in I found a perspective putting item.  A nine year old Mark describes his dad's M.O.

  




" He rewrote and rewrote and rewrote, muttering whatever he had just written over and over, tilting his head back and forth, gesturing with his hands, changing the pitch and rhythm of the words. Then he would pause thoughtfully rip the barely written-on sheet of typing paper from the typewriter, crumple it up, throw  it away, and start over again. It seemed like an odd way for a grownup to spend his time, but I was just a child who didn't know too much."

I feel better. 

Okay, I knew that there would have to be more doses of riddlin' injected into this international conversation. I welcome it heartily as I am a sucker for that kind of stuff.  Your last one left me with two possible choices. Either it's an old school reel-to-reel tape machine or ( and this is my ultimate guess as any half decent reel to reel would not click whir or hum lest it distort the recording ) it sounds like the ribbon wheel on an old electric typewriter. 

In response I respectfully submit the following twosome :

My Brothers are onions, my sisters are chives

I bring a strong presence to all of your lives

Best in the buds and worst in the roots

With tasty bruschetta I'm oft in cahoots

*

*

Seldom in kitchens, often in halls

  sometimes I'm even found climbing the walls

Sometimes I'm hairy and sometimes I'm bald

Sometimes upon me you find yourself called



Don